Magician's Assistant
by andAshes
Summary: Merlin really can't deal with it anymore, everything from the death of Freya and his father to the many left dead or suffering after the dragon's attack was his fault. His time has come to an end, he decided, Arthur and everyone else he knew would be fine without him. Merlin/Arthur. Dark. Complete.
1. It's your life

I've realized that I'm the type of person who needs to finish a fanfiction all in one go. So I'll upload the second chapter soonish. If you review, I'll be super pleased. I've been reading a lot of suicide related fanfictions from the Merlin fanfiction request blog on Tumblr (awesome blog, dirtybookshelves), and figured I could write my own. So. Here it is. And don't worry, it does have a happy ending!

**Warnings:** Self harm, suicidal thoughts, blood, suicide, ect.

* * *

Morgana's eyes burned into his skin. He remembered her face as clearly as though he were watching her all over again. He could feel what she felt, the agony of being betrayed by someone who knew her secrets. He could see it all written on her face, she had trusted Merlin, she had called for him, she would have obeyed any command he gave her – and he poisoned her.

He remembered the way his own throat began to close, he almost wondered if he had been slipped some of the poison as well. But he could still breathe, he remembered his hands on her, trying to comfort her, trying to tell her that he was so so sorry. But his throat had closed and he couldn't speak properly.

When her body went limp in his arms, the memory changed and he watched her die instead. Her last breath was taken from her as she lay quiet in his arms, her body was heavy against his chest.

Usually, then, he would wake up. Sometimes he would sink into blissful blackness that was sleep. He liked sleeping, even if the memories echoed in dreams.

Sometimes he thought of his father, who had saved his life and ended his own in one motion. If he wasn't so scared of Arthur's judgement, he knew he could have saved his life. He knew that he could have found the spell to close the wound, repair the broken flesh, bring life into his father's being. If he hadn't been so selfishly self-preserving – he could have saved his father's life. He would still be alive, and Merlin would still have his father.

He didn't get a chance to get to know him, only a few times where they stayed up and spoke. He only had the carving of a dragon to remember him by.

But in the end – it didn't matter because Merlin had been the one to set the dragon free. If he hadn't promised, then his father wouldn't have needed to be sacrificed. If he had let the dragon rot under Camelot then Merlin could be happy never knowing who his father was.

He had followed Arthur, after he had sent the dragon away (another lie), to survey the dead. There were so many people, wrapped in cloth, laying in the streets. He saw the burned and gruesome corpses, the tear streaked faces of wives and husbands and mothers and brothers and sisters as they watched their loved one get carted off. Merlin remembered feeling sick to his stomach, and nearly having to hide somewhere until it passed. Even Arthur looked more pale than usual.

Merlin knew that each and every one of these casualties was his fault. Each and every body was another weight on his shoulders, the families who had lost some or all of their dearest friends, were on his shoulders too. This was all his fault.

He was blinded by tears as they walked, and while Arthur was distracted Merlin ducked into an alley to empty his stomach and sob into the palm of his hand, trying to stifle any noises. He was a shaking, quivering mess, and it took a long time for him to pull himself up again, and even then his knees were weak and he rest heavily against the wall behind him. He heard Arthur call his name, looking for him, and had ignored it.

The faces lingered in his dreams too – if anyone ever found out that he had released the dragon and caused all those deaths, then he knew that they would run him through if Arthur didn't do so first.

That night he vaguely remembered getting to his little room in Gaius' chambers. He was blinded by agony.

It had only been a few weeks since the dragon had attacked, the dead had been carried away but the people had not forgotten. A screech of a cart caused them to flinch, as if the dragon had returned. Fire was avoided, everyone preferred to sit in darkness. Everyone had aged years during the attacks.

A few men and women were brought to Gaius – brought in by concerned friends or onlookers because they couldn't deal with the visions anymore. They had watched their loved ones burn before their eyes, and begged for death instead of continuing to live with it. One young woman, who had watched both her parents burn, and her siblings crushed as their home fell down, had managed to get around Gaius' watchful eye. They had found her lifeless body in a pool of blood and Merlin hid that day.

A woman had taken her own life because of Merlin's mistake. He had been friends with her – learned her name, walked with her outside to try to keep her mind off of things, watched Gaius talk to her to soothe her battered soul. But she had taken her life away anyways, and Merlin didn't know what to do. He didn't even notice when Arthur found him the next day, demanding to know where he had went the day before. He had been sent to the stocks, and stood lifelessly as bits of food crashed over his head.

Sometimes he thought of Freya.

He loved her – not as much as he had loved Arthur (he was beginning to forget how nice it had been to hold onto something like love), but he had loved her anyways. He loved her enough to try to take her away from Camelot. He wanted a simple life, away from Camelot, where he could perform magic tricks for her and she would give him that kind smile again. He wished that he had been able to save her, but his magic had been no real use, not that he knew how to heal back then. He had carried her to the lake, and watched her burn.

He missed her, and wished that he had tried to hide her instead. It might not have been the best life, but he could have hid her until everything blew over, then they could get away. Then Merlin wouldn't have made so many mistakes.

Merlin had been given one good and positive and happy thing – a young woman who was kind and grateful that he loved her, and she had been taken away from him.

The memories wouldn't go away, no matter what he did. He tried almost anything, brewing potions that would give him a dreamless sleep but nothing worked. Every night he relieved the events in his life that led him to where he was now.

Merlin was late constantly, he would rather be sleeping than be awake, where he felt the weight on his shoulders. Even if his sleep was ravaged by pained memories, it was better than being awake. Arthur didn't seem to notice, which was good. Merlin didn't really want to answer, Gaius' concern at the dinner table was more than enough. He still kept up fake smiles that didn't crinkle his eyes the way they did before, he still joked with Arthur, and when his remarks became more savage and less playful, Merlin retreated so he wouldn't cross any lines that Arthur had drawn for them.

Most of his chores were done with magic, so he could get them over with so he could go back and sleep. If he were lucky, he was able to avoid Gaius in the evening so he didn't have to choke down another meal. Everything turned to sand in his mouth.

One night, early autumn, Gaius was sitting at the table, his fingers on a note, his expression grim. Merlin sat down across from him, asking him what was wrong.

"Do you remember Audrey?" He asked, his voice was gentle.

"Yeah, she's the one who—" He broke off, she had been pregnant when the dragon attacked – her husband had died and in the resulting stress, she had lost the baby.

Gaius sighed heavily, "I should not have released her." He said quietly. "She assured me she had someone to go to. She didn't tell me she was alone."

Merlin knew what she had done before Gaius finished. He felt the weight of her, and her unborn child, sink onto his shoulders. Another life lost because of him. She was another innocent soul who had sunk into oblivion. "She thanked me" Gaius said gently, "for being there for her. And apologized."

Merlin left Gaius alone, knowing there was nothing he could do to help. He hid in his room, locked the door, and pulled his knees to his chest. How could it be that one person was responsible for all these lives being lost? How could he bear this weight and the burden on his shoulders? The last time he saw her, she looked so happy – like she was moving on and that she would be okay.

Though he knew that the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Gaius, it had been on his mind. If he weren't around, then no one else would have to suffer at his hands. Maybe he could trust Gwen with protecting Arthur, he was sure she would be happy to help. He was the last of the Dragonlords, but did that really matter with only one dragon? Maybe he could give him one last command, tell him that he was never to harm another human for as long as he lived, in exchange for his freedom. He could tell Arthur that he loved him, because Arthur was destined for greatness and many before him had fallen for the prince. He knew that his knights, the ones he trained and worked to the bone, loved him deeply. Arthur would be fine so long as his knights were with him, and so long as Gwen could love him and take care of him. He would fulfil his destiny on his own.

He didn't want the burden anymore, of both this foolish destiny and the countless deaths and pain he had caused. Everyone else would live on without him.

The next day Gwen stopped him, grasping his arm and asking him what was wrong. Concern was written on her face and though he definitely wasn't going to tell her everything, he would burden no one else with his pain, he told her what Gaius had told him. Just that he was upset over the loss of another life he had known. She embraced him, and he gladly held her and let his composure drop for a few moments in the safety of her arms. When they parted, she pressed her palm to his cheek and told him that she was always there for him.

Gwen would probably be hurt too – he realized. She would miss him, but she would have Arthur with her. He would tell him to go be with her, and to stop thinking about how their titles were so different, so that they could both find happiness without him.

He wondered, vaguely, what Arthur would do. They were friends, but often Arthur acted less than that. He was sure Arthur would be sad, for awhile. But he would move on and he would live because that's what he had to do. He would grieve and then he would accept the loss and move on.

But his mother, he knew, would not take the news so lightly. Maybe he could request that she move to Camelot as well, and live with Gaius and mother Gwen and Arthur, and take care of the three of them because he knew she would. She would probably mother the knights too, she would have a good life here, even if she lost her blood, she would gain the love of Merlin's friends.

He wrote her a long letter, telling her that he wanted her to come to Camelot. He missed her, and that he wanted to see her again. He told her that there was a place for her to live, and that she would be welcomed with open arms by everyone Merlin was close to. He sent it to her, he didn't know how long it would take before it got there, but he would probably be long gone by then.

A long and tiring week later, Gaius greeted him with more news. A young boy, no older than twelve, had drowned himself because he was so sick of the world he lived in. He had no parents, no friends, and nothing else. Gaius made his presence known in the towns, talking to anyone who was alone, so he could prevent more needless death.

He realized that he couldn't keep trying. Not anymore, not after everything. Gaius was out late, and Merlin huddled in his room. He scribbled an apology to Gaius, and to Arthur, telling him to take care of Gwen for him (because asking her to do it would only end up with Arthur's arrogance). He knew there the veins in the human body were, and it only took him a few presses of his thumb to find the one in his arm. Bleeding out seemed like a painless, if messy, way to go. So he did it outside, so Gaius wouldn't be forced to clean up his blood.

He sat outside under the moonlight, staring at his pale arm. The knife he had was one he had taken from Arthur's chambers, its point was sharp and it glinted in the light. He pressed the tip against his skin and shuddered, the pain was sharp but it slid easily, so long as he pressed hard enough.

He cut a long stripe down his arm, and watched the blood pour. He let out a soft sigh – it would just be like going to sleep. The mark stung, but he ignored that and slid the knife into his pocket. His vision clouded, relief was coming as the blackness set in. If this was how it felt to die then he wasn't sure why everyone was so scared of it – it was pleasant. He adjusted so he lay on his side, breathing in the sweet smell of the grass. He savoured it, closing his eyes, and letting the blackness take over him.

:x:X:x:

The last thing Merlin expected to do was wake up.

He felt light headed, woozy, sick to his stomach and his arm hurt as though it had been burned.

He felt heavy, but that was just the blanket over his chest. He opened his eyes and couldn't see for a long moment before it cleared, and the ceiling above him came into focus. Wherever he was, it was dark. There was a single candle lit somewhere to his right, and he felt a heavy warm weight near his hip.

Arthur was asleep in a chair beside the bed, his forehead resting on his hip, his hands folded under his chin. His face faced the blankets and he was still as he slept. Merlin let out a shaky breath, cursing himself. Had he been found? Had someone just walked by him, or had someone found the note and came looking?

His limbs felt weak from bloodloss, and he wondered just how long he had been asleep. He was thirsty, but he couldn't lift his arms enough to get anything to drink, so he closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

The next time he woke up, Arthur was awake and rubbed at his eyes. Then he noticed that Merlin was peering at him, and straightened. His voice was far too loud in the dull fog of his mind, and wondered if he was dreaming. Or maybe he had actually died, and this was just his afterlife, catering to him.

But the pain was still heavy in his chest, tinged with regret as he saw the lines under Arthur's eyes and the way it looked like he hadn't seen the sun in weeks. Arthur was pressing his hands across Merlin's body, touching his shoulders and neck and face and hair, his expression a waterfall of relief. He was yelling for Gaius, he thought, and closed his eyes again. Arthur shook him, and he opened his eyes again unhappily, wriggling his fingers. Everything was too real and he felt like he couldn't move.

Gaius was there, checking his pulse and examining his arm. There was a bandage wrapped around it, tightly, his fingers felt numb. The old man's eyes were red and lined like he hadn't slept in weeks, he heard him whisper that he was sorry, and Merlin tried to shake his head to tell him that he shouldn't be – that Merlin should have talked to someone, or he should have done a better job so they wouldn't have to worry about him.

Arthur remained at his side, and when Gaius had spoken to him (the words were lost in his head, he couldn't think clearly with not enough blood in his system) and left, Arthur returned. He touched Merlin's face, his thumb stroking his cheekbone tenderly. Worry was written in his face and Merlin couldn't watch, so he closed his eyes and forced himself to find the blackness of sleep again.

The third time he woke up, Arthur wasn't there but Gwen was, and he could think clearly. He had seen Morgana's face in his mind again, the way she looked at him as though he had stabbed a knife in her belly. Gwen kissed his forehead when she saw his eyes open. She grasped his hand and held it tightly to her chin, tears were slipping down her cheeks silently, as if she didn't notice them. He wriggled one finger, catching one of her tears before it fell from her face.

She couldn't stay composed, and bent her head down to rest against his shoulder, sobbing openly and clutching his hand as though her (or his, rather) life depended on it. "Why didn't you tell us?" She choked out. "We could have helped." Her voice strained and trembled and shook, so he just held her hand and let her cry against his shoulder.

Not only were countless deaths on his shoulders, now his friends' grief was there too. He wasn't supposed to survive, he wasn't supposed to see this. He was supposed to be blissfully unaware as they grieved and healed and moved on. Instead, Gwen sobbed against his shoulder. "You're one of my only friends" She eventually managed, her head still bowed. "I couldn't bear to lose you. I was so scared, Merlin, so scared. I thought you were gone, you're my family, I love you, I can't.." She sucked in a breath, and sat up. "We all love you, Merlin." She pressed her palm to her cheeks to wipe her tears. "Look, everyone brought you things. Everyone you know, even Lancelot is here."

Merlin's heart ached, and he closed his eyes tiredly. "Please don't go to sleep again. Please, I want to hear your voice." She begged him. "You can't do this to all of us, I couldn't handle losing you."

"Neither could I" Another soft voice said from the doorway, Merlin didn't bother to look, he knew that voice better than he knew his own. Arthur walked towards them, and placed his hand on Gwen's shoulder. She sniffed, wiping her eyes again and standing, releasing Merlin's hand. "Thank you, we just need a few minutes."

Gwen nodded, and he held her for a moment before she exited. Arthur silently sat next to the bed, and brushed his knuckles on Merlin's cheek. "I've never seen Gaius move that fast" He said eventually. "Even my father offered his kindness to you, it surprised me." Arthur's fingers never stopped moving on Merlin's face.

"How could you be so selfish?" Arthur's voice had changed – it was suddenly a harsh whisper, low and frightened, like a child left alone in the dark, too scared to speak up for fear of being eaten. "Did you think of us? Of me, of Gwen? Gaius? What's so bad that you felt you had to die?" Arthur's voice stuttered over the word 'die'.

"I've lost friends before." Arthur said, his voice slightly calmer. "But none of them have ever taken their own lives. I've held my friends in my arms as they died, I've carried them to their parents and lovers, I've seen it all – but I've never seen a friend do this. Why would you want to willingly give up your life? Why like this?" Merlin hadn't spoken a word, and had a thousand things to say but he couldn't say any of them. "You scared me." He admitted, "I thought I'd never see you again, I never thought I'd get to talk to you."

Arthur's voice lowered, his fingers stilled on his skin, "Please, say something. Anything, please."

Merlin was quiet for a long time, Arthur stared at him intently, expectantly, and Merlin knew he would need to get Arthur off of his case. He couldn't live with this, the crazy hurt in his chest was suffocating. "Cabbagehead" He muttered, closing his eyes again.

He felt Arthur let out a breathy laugh, then he was asleep again.

:x:X:x:

Merlin was still weak, and gave Gaius the minimum amount of explanation – he didn't want to tell him anything because his mind hadn't changed. He smiled, even though his limbs were sluggish and his eyes were deadened. He was still late, and he did his best to keep Arthur off of his back. But his friends insisted that he would never be alone, Arthur moved Merlin into his chambers and kept a close watch on his friend. Gwen walked with him whenever he left the castle, Gaius spoke with him and ate dinner with him in the evenings. The knights would invite him to sit with them, swapping stories and trying to bring a smile to his face.

Even Uther seemed slightly different around him, treating him a bit better than a servant, and more like someone who was a friend of Arthur. He didn't ask Merlin to do anything, as he had before. There were other servants for that.

Merlin couldn't take it. He couldn't take being constantly followed, people constantly trying to get into his business. He made sure to wear his sleeves long so that people would stop staring at the gruesome wound down his wrist. Not that he was ashamed (he was only ashamed that he had failed), but that he didn't like the looks of pity he got.

As the weeks passed, he heard back from his mother, who said she would love to come to Camelot, but she wouldn't be able to right now. But soon, she had been thinking of it for a while now, she missed her son. Merlin didn't tell her anything, and only muttered a soft apology to the paper. When she got here, it would be too late.

It was hard to get a few minutes alone, but eventually he did, and it was all he needed. It was raining and Arthur had went to sleep early. Gwen wasn't around and Merlin had hid from the knights so they wouldn't see him. He snuck out into the rain, armed with a knife. He was still weak, and he knew that this time he would bleed out quickly. He left nothing behind, and walked through the rain with purpose. He went through the gates of Camelot and out into the woods.

Merlin kept going as far as his weak legs would take him – Arthur wouldn't find him out here until it was over.

He exposed his other arm, the one he hadn't already attempted. He awkwardly held the blade in his left hand, found the vein, and pierced the skin. This mark was more jagged, deeper and uncontrolled. He ground his teeth against the pain and tossed the blade to the side, it clattered uselessly against the tree.

Then Merlin lowered himself to the ground, curling up into a ball, and savouring the smell of the rain and the dirt, the warm gush of red from his arm.

He tried to stay awake, and turned his eyes to the sky one last time. This time – he knew he hadn't made any mistakes. He knew he was dying, he could feel the sweet relief overtake him. Darkness settled into his limbs, the chill from the rain began to leave him, his vision began to blank and the last thing he felt was water running across his face, like Arthur's kind fingers. The last thing he saw was Arthur and Gaius and Gwen, the people he was leaving behind. He could almost feel Freya's warm embrace lift him away as the last of his life trickled into the rain. He exhaled one last breath, and embraced the darkness.


	2. Your body

Thank you for all of the feedback. I thought about leaving it at the last chapter, or leaving it at this one - but I wrote it and I'm happy with how it came out. I always wondered, when I was in dark places, who would miss me, and how they would react. I've spent long hours debating it, wondering which of my friends and family would care, and how they would react, and how long they would miss me before they got over it. I'm in a better place now, thankfully, and I hope I can continue to be happy and strong.

This song was heavily inspired by Dan Le Sac's song, "Magician's Assistant". I heard it a long time ago, back when I was still fighting darkness. I keep coming back to it, it's a beautiful song. And I don't own it, just saying, but seriously give it a listen, because it's really really amazing. I'd love to see someone make a Merlin/Arthur AMV to this song.

* * *

Arthur supposed that it was only fitting that it was raining that day. It poured, and it continued to pour for three long weeks after, as if the heavens itself were sobbing.

He woke up – Merlin wasn't there. His bed was empty, his shoes were gone. That was the first sign – Arthur felt numb because he _knew_, then and there, that he wasn't going to like what he found. But he tried anyways, he sounded the alarm because his best friend was missing. Gwen grasped his hand and they tore through Camelot, searching everywhere for him. She had not seen him, none of the knights had, Gaius had seen him for a light dinner that night, but knew nothing else.

Arthur felt as though everything was suddenly out of control, Uther wordlessly ordered guards to search the city.

Arthur stood outside, Gwen's hand clutched tight in his, and closed his eyes to the rain. His jaw trembled, and he kissed her knuckles. "Stay here" He said, his voice was rough.

He went into the woods, searching the trees and calling Merlin's name. Each shout drew him closer and closer to freezing his fingers off.

As he walked, he spotted something in the distance. He caught only a glance of it, a dark shape on the ground, and quickly stopped. He turned his back to the shape, pressing his palm across his lips to hide any noise he might have made. Arthur was glad he was alone because he knew what he saw, so nobody saw him sink down to his knees. Nobody heard him scream to the heavens, asking them '_why?_'. No one heard him cry, no one heard him call Merlin's name over and over and over again, knowing that he had failed.

Shaking, cold to the bone, Arthur stumbled to his feet. He could hardly see through the rain and his rage and unbearable hurt, but he made his way to the shape on the ground.

Merlin's body was ice to the touch, all traces of life were gone from his relaxed face. He circled his arms around the boy, hugging him to his chest, pressing his face into his hair and confessing everything he had ever done, pleading for this to be just a dream, praying that this wasn't actually Merlin, and that Merlin was sitting in his chambers, smiling his usual smile (not the one that lacked warmth in his eyes – the one where his eyes crinkled and he looked so damn happy Arthur couldn't help but smile back).

He slid his fingers to Merlin's neck, untying the red cloth he wore around it. Without a thought, he tied it around his throat. Then, trying to keep himself from staggering, gathered up the corpse in his arms.

Arthur carried Merlin back to Camelot.

People parted in the streets to let them pass, their eyes wide, the marks on Merlin's death pale wrist bright bloody red. Gwen stood on the steps of the castle, Gaius stood beside her. They locked eyes, and he felt rather than heard Gwen's cry, Gaius was barely able to catch her before she hit the ground. Each of the knights, even the ones who hadn't known or even liked Merlin, came to gather on the steps as Arthur carried what was left of him.

He never realized the impact Merlin had on everyone. His father was the only one who walked down the steps to meet him, his face was blank, and he placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

Uther fell into step with Arthur, half a pace behind him. They walked together, and as they passed the collection of knights, they bowed their heads.

Arthur had never seen anything like it – knights bowing to a simple servant.

Though he supposed there was nothing simple about Merlin. He was always happy, easy to be friends with, he always knew what to say and he was loyal almost to a fault. He was also brave – Arthur had never known a man who would rush into battle armed with nothing, as Merlin did each and every time. He didn't know any fully trained knights who would rush into battle unarmed like Merlin did.

Merlin was the bravest man he ever knew, he had the heart of a lion and always seemed so strong. Whatever Merlin had been dealing with – it had to have been really awful to drive him to take his own life.

He carried Merlin into the main hall, then through it, to the place where men were knighted, kings were crowned, weddings were held, and the dead were laid to rest. He placed Merlin (how long could he call a lifeless bag of flesh and bone 'Merlin'?) on the table, and carefully arranged his limbs so that he might have been comfortable. He pressed a hand to his cheek, his father touched his shoulder.

"You did not kill the dragon" Uther said finally, Arthur ignored him in favour of hiding the tears that fell freely to his lips. There were men worth his tears. "I knew that without a Dragonlord, facing the dragon would be impossible. I expected the worst. When I saw you and him walk back to Camelot together, I knew. Balinor was Merlin's father, it made Merlin the Dragonlord."

Arthur could hardly even believe it.

"He has been good for you, Arthur." The man squeezed Arthur's shoulder. "You're growing into a fine young man, I don't know how he did it, but he's changed you into a king. Don't ever forget what you learned from him."

"Are Dragonlords sorcerers?" Arthur asked, his voice was dry and croaked.

"His father was. I could only assume that Merlin was too."

"Why did you let him live?" Maybe it would have been easier if Uther had sentenced Merlin, then he wouldn't have to know that his friend had taken his own life.

"Because he was good for you. I expected you needed him."

Arthur chanced a look, and saw grief in his father's eyes. "Whatever you want to do, Arthur. You have my blessing."

His father left, and Arthur stood in the hall, alone, soaked to the bone.

The door opened after a long, long time, Arthur had done nothing but stare at Merlin's still face. Gwen walked up to him, and curled herself to Arthur's side, wrapping her arms around his arm, lightly he placed his hand on her arm. Gaius was there too, standing behind him. "He was a sorcerer" Arthur choked out, after a long moment.

"He was" Gaius confirmed sadly, his long-kept secret was useless now.

"My father.. said that he was a dragonlord." He bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "I vow –when I become king the ban on magic is over. For Merlin."

Gwen left first, she was shaking and Arthur commanded her to go home, rest, get warm. Gaius told him to do the same, but he only shook his head. It was late into the night when someone at the door knocked, the noise echoed. Leon entered, leaving the door open behind him. "Sire, there's something you may want to see."

"Leave me." He said wearily.

"I insist, sire, you will want to see this." Leon's voice was strange, forced, heavy with emotion. So Arthur, trusting him, turned to follow him.

Nearly all of Camelot stood in the courtyard, holding candles in front of them. The rain had relented enough for the flames to stay lit. He quickly found a balcony, and heard the voices. People who knew Merlin were sharing stories, those who didn't were listening intently. This kind of gathering was fit for a king – not a servant. Arthur was amazed that one person could have such an effect.

He watched for a long time, then the rain started and he went back inside and changed. He wore white robes, and walked to the room once more. Merlin still lay there, quietly, and Arthur wished he had only been sleeping for the thousandth time. He dressed Merlin in some of his nice clothes, he looked like royalty as he lay there, and he bent to kiss his forehead tenderly.

It wasn't until late morning that Arthur left the room, his expression heavy. Gwen waited for him, wringing her fingers and hugging him when he had closed the door. "I didn't want you to be alone." She said brokenly into his shoulder.

Merlin's mother arrived that day, as fate would have it. She smiled, greeting Arthur warmly. But her expression changed as she saw the look on Arthur's face, concern took over her features and he only had to speak Merlin's name before she crumpled.

She made no sound, she simply folded into the ground. Arthur knelt on the wet ground and slid his arms around her, there was nothing he could do to properly comfort a woman who had just lost her son. The incredible weight of her grief sank on him too, and they shared the pain as they knelt in the rain for a long, long time.

:x:X:x:

Merlin's funeral was surprising, and would have been lovely had he not been saying good-bye to someone he cared for. Many of the servants were close to him, the knights as well, and so many others from the city. Merlin's influence was endless, it seemed, and he ran his fingers across the soft fabric of the neckerchief Merlin always wore. He wore it now – it seemed more comforting to carry a piece of him around at all times, as though he could convince himself that Merlin was still with him.

He could hardly believe that Merlin was dead.

But through what Gaius had said, the picture began to make sense. Merlin kept so many secrets, and shared so little.

Arthur missed him.

The rain washed everything away and kept everyone inside for the most part. He would often go stand in it, lost in thought, as if he waited for Merlin to come back to him. He knew it was foolish, Merlin wasn't coming back. The dead couldn't come back to life.

It was still difficult to swallow the knowledge that Merlin had taken his own life. He felt as though he failed, and though he knew no one was to blame – he couldn't forgive himself. He should have forced Merlin to speak; he should have made sure Merlin slept in his bed instead of in the room so he couldn't sneak out. He should have done so much – but he didn't. He knew he should have tried harder.

And he would never forget his first glimpse of Merlin's body on the ground.

Weeks passed, the rain eventually stopped but it seemed to rain more often than it ever had before. Hunith was given a nice room within the castle, and invited to stay here. She taught children how to read, and as the time grew, the ragged lines under her eyes began to disappear.

Gaius was teaching Hunith to take over his position, because he didn't think he could handle it anymore. He believed he had failed too many times now; too many had taken their lives when he should have been taking care of them. So he was stepping down, he looked as though he had aged thirty years.

Gwen was a mess for a long time, but became close friends with Hunith. The two of them helped each other, and after many weeks she was back to her old self. She too had aged, just as they all had. He knew she wouldn't forget that she lost a friend – but she didn't show it that often anymore.

The knights were sombre, and they had erected a little memorial to Merlin in the armoury. They, too, moved on.

Arthur couldn't.

It wasn't as though he could forget about Merlin, he had been an important part of his life. He missed him – and he wished he could relieve those days before Merlin's death over and over again, so he could convince him to stay alive and keep fighting. He wanted nothing more than he have him back, it felt as though half of him were missing. The longing was agony, and he found he wasn't able to be close to Gwen anymore without feeling bitter.

He had lost his passion for her, and though he still cared about her, he couldn't do anything about it. He wished, more than anything else, that he could see Merlin one last time.

A year passed.

Then another one.

Gaius retired, and Hunith took over his duties, she was a small light in the darkness brooding inside Arthur. Gaius was still around, Uther had not asked him to leave his chambers, and employed Hunith gratefully. She became like a mother to him, whenever he saw her. She made sure he ate enough, made sure that he took care of himself, and she made sure that he was cared for. She fussed over him, and he began to think of her like a mother, he called her 'mum' when they were in private. It was nice to have her there, as though she was trying to fill the hole in his chest with her kindness.

Gwen went with him as they visited Merlin's grave two years after Arthur had found him. It rained for two weeks straight last year, and this year it had been raining nonstop for five days. "Arthur" Gwen said, turning to him with honest eyes. "It's time for you to move on."

"I have" He replied, though he knew it was a lie. He hadn't moved on, and it wasn't like anyone hadn't noticed. Everyone treaded so carefully around him.

"No, Arthur, you haven't." She laid her hand on his arm, the first time she had touched him in nearly a year. "You can't dwell on the past, I know you loved him, we all did, but you can't keep living like this. You know Merlin planned for his mother to come here, he asked her to come so she could take care of you."

Instead of fighting, he just walked away.

She didn't how he had tried, _so hard,_ to move on. Every day he woke up without that awful emptiness in him, it returned to him before night fell. It was like he was missing his other half – it was not a pleasant feeling.

She called his name, he didn't hear her, he kept walking through the rain.

He locked himself in his chambers, and pulled the knife out of his drawer. He had kept it, all these years. He had found it near Merlin's body - it was the one Merlin had used to end his life. He hated this scrap of metal, and nearly destroyed it a few times. But he couldn't, he kept it close to him for reasons he didn't know.

He twirled the blade between his fingers for a long time, letting the pounding of the rain soothe him.

Tenderly, he placed it back into the drawer, and untied the worn red neckerchief from his throat. He had worn it every single day, without fail, because he had to keep Merlin's memory close to him. As everyone else seemed to forget about him, Arthur never would. It might have been the only thing left that kept him sane.

Another year passed. Uther grew older, and eventually his body could no longer handle the stresses of being king. He died in his sleep one night, the day before Merlin had died three years ago.

Uther was laid to rest on a rainy day, Arthur stood alone before him, and kissed his father's forehead. He remembered Merlin, the way he had done the same to him.

He was crowned King the day Merlin died. And later that evening, he stood in his chambers with his hands folded behind his back, the crown a heavy weight on his head. This was the first time he had not been to see him, and he wasn't sure what to think of that. Perhaps Merlin wouldn't have minded – he probably would have been happy to see him crowned. Merlin had always told him that he would make a great King.

Hunith came to his chambers to talk to him, kissing his forehead in a motherly way. "I'm proud of you" She said, caressing his hair. Arthur was fond of the way she touched him. "Merlin believed you would be the greatest King." Her eyes crinkled in a smile, the same way Merlin's did. She had moved on to a quiet acceptance of her son's death, Arthur wasn't there yet and tried to mask the flash of pain through his chest.

"I have an announcement to make" Arthur said quietly. "Could you take care of that for me, please? Tomorrow morning, I need to address the people of Camelot." She nodded, and bid him good-night and left him to his own business.

He knew he should move on because it had been three long years. His heart was still in half, and he pulled the knife out of its safe spot, examining the dull metal. He closed his eyes, they burnt with hot tears as he placed the blade in his lap. He then untied Merlin's clothing from his neck, and carefully wrapped the blade in it. His sight was fogged, and he carefully opened the chest at the foot of his bed, the one he never opened. It contained a few precious items that had belonged to his mother, a small charcoal sketch of her face, and a few other things that he had gathered. He carefully placed the blade in the chest, nestled tenderly beside the sketch of his mother.

He closed it, locked it, and knelt in front of the wood until his knees were too sore to continue.

In the morning, he announced that magic was no longer banned – and that all those with magic would only be tried if they were caught committing crimes, and would be tried as anyone else would be. One little girl in the crowd cheered, and she opened her arms and butterflies fluttered out of nothing out into the air. Arthur smiled – the first real smile he had given in a long time.

It didn't rain that day.

The next day, it did. And he sat in his room, feeling as though peace had settled inside his missing piece. He sat on the windowsill and watched the rain. He heard a soft voice, calling his name. It was muffled, and he glanced around him slowly. He knew no one was in here, and it was too late for anyone to come bothering him. Merlin had been the only one who ever did that (and he could remember Merlin without sorrow now, only a detached fondness), so he glanced out of the window again. He stood, and opened it, letting the cool air and the rain wash over him.

He heard the voice again, louder, as if it were coming from the rain. He knelt on the stone and leaned out of the window, a steady grip on the handle of the glass. The rain wet his face, and he heard the voice again, as though she were whispering in his ear. '_Come to the lake.' _It beckoned._ 'I have a gift for you.'_

He knew that it could be a trap. A rival king looking to take his throne or a sorcerer seeking revenge, but something about the calming rain urged him forwards. Kingdoms were always weakest when the throne changed hands.

The next day he rode out, the rain was gentle and nearly playful with the lazy way it fell, as though it were happy. How rain could be happy, he didn't know. He didn't even know which lake he was heading to, but rode anyways, something told him he was going in the right direction. And when the horse carried him to a pretty lake, dotted with droplets of water from the sky, he knew he had arrived. He slid off his horse, and strode towards the gentle waves lapping against the shore. "I'm here" He said quietly, dipping his fingertips into the cool water.

'_I've been watching you'_ the voice said, whispering in his ear again. '_Only now the time has come. A life for a life, I do not think Merlin ever told you about this. To bring someone back, or to save someone, a life must be given in return_.' Arthur did know this, but not because of anything Merlin had told him. '_Your father is dead. He was the curse keeping this land grounded; it was him and only him who kept me from reaching you. There is still time, Arthur, if you are prepared to do it_.'

Arthur didn't know what this voice was talking about, but he listened intently.

'_Merlin's spirit lives within me; I've been keeping him safe. Uther's life can be given for his - he has been growing stronger every day_.' Arthur choked, his hands clenching into fists.

"Yes" He breathed, "_yes" _he said again, hardly daring to believe these soft words.

'_Would you be prepared to bring him back, knowing that he ended his life, and knowing how he has suffered? He took his own life, remember that, whatever it was that drove him to that will not go away overnight. Would you bring him back knowing that you could lose him again? _' That got Arthur pausing, he remembered Merlin's sadness, the lines under his eyes, the way he had a haunted look, the way he smiled even though his eyes lacked life. Would it be fair to bring him back, knowing all of that? He lowered his head.

"I long to see him again." He whispered. "Just one more time, I do not wish to see him suffer, I only desire to say goodbye. If I could just have that, just a few more moments with him, then I could find myself again." He had lost so much of himself in the last three years, he no longer knew who he was, he did not feel as though he deserved to be King. A man cut in half was no more a king than his horse was. Was it selfish to wish Merlin was back with him? He knew that the boy must have been dealing with something really awful, in order to resort to the last possible option like that. He truly had to have felt as though there were nothing left. But what about him? What did Merlin expect him to do without him? He had brought his mother to Camelot so she wouldn't be alone, and maybe he expected that she would fill the void inside of him. But what about Gaius? The man had loved Merlin as a son, he saw that now, and even with the bright light of Hunith, he could see that he was still grieving. They both were, he had spent long hours with Gaius in silence, sipping whatever soothing tea that he had made for them. What were they supposed to have done without him? Did he expect that they would just be fine and move on?

Arthur couldn't move on. Even if he packed away the knife and the cloth he wore – Merlin could never be forgotten.

But could he be so selfish as to bring him back? Could he really bring Merlin back into a world that he so desperately wanted to get out of? He closed his eyes, biting his tongue because he did not know what to do.

'_I cannot give you that, I can only release his spirit. Once released, I have no other part to play. His magic has been waiting, and has held onto Uther's spirit for far too long. This is your only chance, will you bring him back?' _

"I.. can't.."


	3. So you can choose what you do

Thank you, everyone, for your reviews. This story is complete, and I may write a short epilogue later on. Each review was special to me, and I had thought about finishing differently than I had already done. I've had a lot of fun writing this, thank you for reading. (also, the document editor is being a brat, so I'm sorry if the formatting is skewed in any way.)

* * *

_And if one day you can't rein it in_  
_And of your last breath - you are the only witness_  
_Then so be it, 'cause it's your last breath_  
_And it's nobody else's business_

Merlin wasn't sure what he expected, but pulling air into his lungs once more was not one of them.

He lay on something warm and hard, he was strangely detached and fought to move what felt like his fingers. And eventually, he seemed to attach himself again, and came to realize his surroundings. It was raining lightly, the water was cool against his face. He breathed some more, as if remembering how to do it.

At some point, he opened his eyes. He was laying on scales, they were warm and comforting and rather large. He was groggy, and the way he moved was sluggish, but he was awake. And alive.

Though it felt strange, as though he had been asleep for a long, long time rather than waking up in some afterlife. He heard a rumble, and nearly jumped, but instead noticed that the scales he lay on were moving, breathing, and then he relaxed.

"You finally awake, young Warlock" A familiar voice hummed. "I was wondering when you would. You've been asleep for quite a long time now."

"I was dead."

"A life for a life, you know this. A life has been given, and yours has been returned."

Merlin frowned. "What if I wanted to be dead?" He asked softly, the reality of the situation settling in. He was alive, even though he was quite certain he had died. He was tired and sluggish and he felt unbearably empty, with that weary sadness slowly settling in. He didn't think, in that moment, about who had given their life for him.

"You truly do not know your importance, do you?" The voice was sad, it echoed sadness. "I am sorry, Warlock, that you felt there was no other option. Your loss has affected more than you could imagine."

"What?" His stomach squirmed with guilt.

"Half of Camelot mourned your passing, you were not meant to die so early."

Merlin sank into silence, and realized he wore nothing. Strangely, it didn't bother him. Though there was a pile of clothes on the ground near him. The scales were warm, so he stayed where he was. The dragon spoke once more. "How am I alive?"

"You are the last man in this world and the next with the power to exchange one life for another. Because of this, Albion herself chose to protect your magic. A spirit has been watching over you all these years, when the time came, she released you to me." The dragon paused, lowering his head to rest it against the ground. "This world needs you, Merlin" The dragon did not often speak Merlin's name – normally it was only spoken to get his attention. "It was why your soul was not reborn, you were saved. And she waited for that one life to flicker out – and when it did, it was given in exchange for yours. The heavens believe it to be a fair trade."

Merlin was quiet, and only then realized that he spoke to Kilgharrah in the dragon's tongue, not his own. It was almost soothing, and he lay back on the warm scales, pressing his cheek to them. He hoped, which was a small worrisome speck of lighted fear, that it had not been Arthur who had passed on his life to him.

"Some still mourn your loss. They have not been able to forget you."

Merlin's stomach squirmed some more, and he frowned.

"He is your other half. He has been waiting for you for a long time now. Would you like to see him?"

He closed his eyes. _Arthur_. Of course, it had to be Arthur who couldn't forget him. His heart swelled and broke and he slid across the scales to gather the clothing, the small light eased the worrisome fear because he was still alive. The clothes weren't his, they looked like Arthur's. Curiously, he put them on. "You were laid to rest in those clothes." The dragon explained, ruffling his wings slightly. "Now come, he is waiting. Are you prepared to see him?" Merlin cast his eyes to the jagged marks on his wrists, beginning to scar, as if they wounds had been made only yesterday. One was thin (but deep), the other was a bit longer and a bit more jagged because he wasn't very steady with his left hand.

"No" Merlin admitted, his voice watery, but he climbed to the dragon's back anyways.

He didn't really think about the fact that a dragon was carrying him to see Arthur – who would, by law, have to sentence him to death for riding up to a dragon. "How long has it been?" He asked as the dragon stretched his wings, one hand protectively holding on with the other wrapped around his knees.

"Three years." He said, and they were off.

"Arthur was given a choice" The dragon hummed as they flew, Merlin tucking himself under the shelter he could find from the icy wind. "He chose to let you rest, rather than bring you into a world that you no longer wanted any part of." It was strange to hear the dragon's voice filled with such apologetic sorrow; he supposed that Kilgharrah had been truly alone without the presence of the last Dragonlord to accompany him. "She was not able to keep you from the gift of Uther's life."

Merlin didn't know who 'she' was, and he wasn't sure what to think of it.

Kilgharrah landed in the lake gently, his limbs dipping into the water with little more than a few ripples. Merlin allowed himself to fall into the cool water, rather than trying to climb down gracefully, and as he went under he opened his eyes, and saw a shadowy face he knew. He smiled, sadness gripping him. Freya's form touched him, her hands were slightly cooler than the water around him, even if they weren't entirely solid. Her hands were a cool press of water, her image was a mere shadow, and she floated before him as he held his breath. '_I've kept you safe, Merlin'_ She said, her voice filled with pride and love and so many other things Merlin didn't deserve. '_It's time to go back. We all need you. Please, live, if not for me then do it for him.'_

Merlin gasped for breath as his head broke the surface, and he watched Kilgharrah train his head towards the shore. Merlin turned where he was, and saw a figure standing there in the rain, a horse tethered a ways away. He stood quietly, staring at the dragon with what was probably awe, perhaps surprise and disgust and anger and a whole host of other emotions Merlin didn't want to get into.

He swam, and it only took a few seconds for the man to run into the water, staggering as the resistance of the water kept him from running. He met Merlin half way, and wound his arms tightly around him. Merlin closed his eyes, and sank into the embrace, breathing in Arthur's watered down smell. They stood in the waist-deep water and held each other for the longest time. He could feel Arthur sobbing against his shoulder, his hand clutching his hair. Merlin stroked his back, unsure what to make of all this. He should have been dead, not standing here with Arthur's arms around him. He still felt so unbearably heavy, and used Arthur's strength to keep him standing.

"I missed you." He breathed, "I don't even know if this is real. Say something, please."

So Merlin settled with the only thing he could think of, Arthur's name, and breathed it into Arthur's ear. Arthur held him tighter, "I'm so happy to see you" He choked out. "Don't leave me again, ever, I couldn't bear it. I love you too much to let you leave now that I have you again."

Merlin knew that he would see the faces of the people he hurt – and he knew he had hurt Arthur. But the other seemed to forget all of his pain, replaced only with relief as he pulled away, his hands on Merlin's shoulders. They stared at each other for a long moment, Merlin's hands curled around Arthur's wrists. He didn't seem concerned by the dragon waiting patiently near them, nor by anything else. He was focused completely on Merlin and he wished he could sink back into the water with Freya and never return.

"I guess this is your dragon?" Arthur asked, nearly breathless, his eyes wild and yearning.

"I belong to no one, King." Kilgharrah growled, "Take care, Warlock, I expect to see you again soon."

The dragon took off, water sloshed around them and the two of them fell into It. Arthur splashed about, then grabbed Merlin and held him close, floating there with one hand in Merlin's hair. "Talk to me, next time." He requested, and Merlin did nothing. He could feel the lines under his eyes, he could feel the sting of unhealed wounds on his wrists. It was as though he had simply fallen asleep for three years, his body was exactly how he remembered it to be. He knew he didn't deserve this kindness as Arthur pulled him back to land, Merlin was sluggish and didn't move very fast. He wanted to stay in the water, it was close to Freya and her presence was comforting.

They decided to walk back, Arthur had only one horse, and he didn't seem to want to rush this. Freya was silent from her watery home, and he wished he could speak to her again. He led the horse and their shoulders bumped together as they walked. "Tell me everything, please." Arthur asked, and Merlin bit his tongue and didn't say anything for many steps. Arthur's voice was soft, uncommanding, it was a simple request, and when Merlin kept quiet for long enough to think that maybe Arthur had forgotten he asked, he still said nothing. He was being given a choice.

He didn't want to share the thoughts he had kept secret for so long, he had guarded them with more than his life. But if he had guarded those secrets with his life – now that it had been lost once, did it matter anymore to keep them quiet? Secrets guarded with a life weren't worth keeping when the life was extinguished.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Merlin eventually started speaking. He began slowly, spilling all his little secrets, and when Merlin got to Will, Arthur grasped his hand tightly. He told Arthur about so many things, things he hadn't even known had bothered him until now. Arthur's expression remained still, just listening to Merlin's story without judgement, relishing in his words because he hadn't heard his voice in so long. He told Arthur how many times he saved his life, and finally, the people who had killed themselves because they were struck with sorrow after the attack on Camelot. He blamed himself for each and every one of them, he knew their names and their stories and how they had nothing left, while Merlin was left with the guilt.

Arthur held his hand tightly, never loosening his grip or letting go as if that simple gesture could share the burden and ease his painful regret. Merlin's voice kept breaking, it wavered dangerously, Arthur remained strong beside him while Merlin confessed. And when there was nothing left to share – he wanted to just leave again because it would be easier than facing everyone he remembered. Tears mingled with the soothing rain water, and Arthur was still strong beside him, taking Merlin's problems in as if they were his own.

"You can't blame yourself" He said softly, after Merlin had worked his way through the story to his first attempt to end it, and remained quiet enough for Arthur to guess that he was done his story. "Please, Merlin, please don't blame yourself. I could never blame you – you did what you had to do, it was what was best at the time." It was clear Arthur didn't know what to say, but he was trying, his words were very clear and calculated, trying not to step in the wrong direction. Merlin could see that. His hand had been slack in Arthur's, and he finally tightened his grip on Arthur's hand, running the back of his hand against his cheeks to clear the salt and water from them. The way Arthur spoke was different than he remembered, he realized. Arthur was quieter, more reserved. There were heavy lines of grief and age on his face; his jaw had hardened into a lonely king's grimace. Merlin wondered if he ever smiled, it didn't look like it, there were no lines from laughter or happiness on his young face, only the ones of grief. It was grief that Merlin had polished and handed to him one rainy morning.

"The dragon said that I am the only one left who has the power to take one life in exchange for another" His voice was shaky, broken, he didn't even want to talk, but his story wasn't finished. He didn't want to talk about putting the knife to his skin, and Arthur probably didn't want to hear it. "Forces beyond me kept me from dying. I.. I don't know what to do." He admitted. He didn't want to be here, he desperately wanted to run now and figure out what to do in the safety of the water and loneliness. He took a breath. "Someone's life has been given to me" He said gently.

"My father" It was the first time Arthur's voice was filled with care, unlike the passive desperation he had held before, his voice was gentle and almost relaxed. "She.. the lady in the lake contacted me, through the rain, and told me to come find her." His voice cracked. "She asked me if I was prepared to bring you back, knowing.." Arthur's eyes shone, and Merlin watched them, biting his tongue. Arthur released a breath. "I told her I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring you back, knowing that you were so _hurt_." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I spoke with her, I told her stories, and she told me things I didn't know, I didn't expect a dragon to appear out of nowhere. I don't know why, but it feels as though I've been missing my other half." He sighed gently, Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin's hand, fiercely clutching his fingers because he was sorry, and because he wasn't at the same time because Merlin was real under his hand.

Merlin's stomach clenched, guilt filled him to the brim and he looked away. He had forgotten those words – two sides of a same coin. If Arthur was his other's half, it only made sense that Merlin was Arthur's. He had forgotten that – Arthur wasn't supposed to be grieving for so long, he was supposed to be romancing Gwen, not clinging to the memory of a dead servant. His legs left weak, and he slowed. They were nearing Camelot, and he didn't think he could handle the journey any longer, it was all becoming too much to bear. Arthur let go of his hand, and slid his arm around Merlin's shoulders. Merlin was still a bit taller than him. Then Arthur stopped altogether, and placed both arms around Merlin. "I didn't know" Merlin said softly. "I thought.. I thought you'd be fine, you had Gwen, and my mother was on her way.." Arthur didn't seem surprised; he must have figured out that Merlin had asked her to come so that his friends could be okay.

"The town stood in the square, holding candles. The rain even stopped for a while." Freya was in the rain, he knew, it was how she had been able to keep him safe (he wished he had found a nice, dry, day to do it). It was how she was able to contact Arthur in the first place. She had stopped the rain to allow candles to burn – for Merlin. He ducked his head to Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur loosened the embrace, and stood before Merlin. He pressed his palms to his cheeks, and Merlin leaned into the touch. He brought his hands to rest on Arthur's wrists, the gruesome marks on his own were visible as the wet sleeves clung and slid part way down his arm. It was still raining slightly, enough to comfort him. He almost heard her voice again, and longed to touch her, but he couldn't. Shuddering, Arthur dragged his thumbs across Merlin's cheekbones.

Just like the last time Arthur had brought Merlin into Camelot, everyone parted to allow them to pass. This time, Merlin was not stiff and dead in his arms, he was walking beside him, hand in hand. Merlin was ready to turn and run the second Arthur let go of him, he was scared because he was going to come face to face with the people he had left behind. A servant took the horse from Arthur quietly, one that Merlin recognized. His expression was full of confused wonder as he scurried off. Hunith and Gwen were waiting on the steps, they had seen Arthur leave earlier and waited for him, worrying. They both stopped what they were doing to look at the two of them, and stood when they saw who Arthur was leading in by the hand. His mother broke into a run to meet them.

Hunith could hardly believe her eyes, and Merlin looked at the floor because he couldn't meet her eyes – knowing that he had hurt her. He had seen only a glimpse of them, her eyes were filled with weariness, she was pushing through just fine but she was lonely. He could see the terrible loneliness in her, the lines of laughter dulled by the quiet smiles that had taken laughter's place. He had taken his life, he had stolen her son away from her. It must have been hard on her. Instead of anything he might have been expecting, or hoping, she wrapped her arms around Merlin and held him tightly. "Oh Arthur" She breathed, her voice was choked. "You brought him back." Her voice was filled with adoration, and Merlin hugged her without a word, almost staggering under the weight of his mother's tears. Gwen joined the hug as soon as she had rushed towards them, hiding her face in Merlin's neck with her eyes squeezed shut.

He didn't want to see Gwen's face – lined prematurely from her duties, a lost love and friend. She and Arthur were no longer close, he could see that in the way Arthur's dull eyes regarded her, if Merlin had stayed around, maybe they would have been. Maybe they could be making little babies for Hunith to fuss over as if they were her own. Instead, she was alone. She still had the young spark of youth that had dulled into the subdued fire of being an adult burdened by much.

Merlin learned that magic was no longer banned, and that his mother had taken over Gaius' position. When he had met the old man (with Arthur at his side, because Arthur refused to let go of his hand for longer than a few minutes), Merlin was sure he was going to faint at the very least. Instead they embraced, Gaius held onto Merlin without any noise, as if he couldn't speak, and maybe he couldn't. Perhaps his throat had closed and he couldn't say anything. Gaius looked the worse, as if he carried the deaths of far too many on his worn shoulders. Perhaps he did – but Gaius hadn't turned to a knife like Merlin had. Those weights seemed to ease when he saw Merlin again, his dull eyes seemed to spark anew, and the only thing he could manage to say was that Arthur was to stay by Merlin's side. The guilt was a sharp blade in his belly, twisting at each new face.

There were a lot of tears each time he saw someone he knew, a servant, a knight, a visitor to the castle.

Lancelot had been living in Camelot now; he had returned to see Merlin off and hadn't left. Arthur had knighted him, and welcomed him to the Table. He held the lines of a man who had lost so much – the love of Gwen, the loss of a friend who had encouraged him, the roughness that came with the wandering knight. He held Merlin's face and didn't ask how he was alive, only smiled and tenderly told him that he knew how Merlin felt, and to come speak to him.

He requested a few minutes away from Arthur so that Lancelot could speak to Merlin quietly, and they sat alone on a sunlit bench, their faces cast in shadow by the overlook above them. Flowers on long vines dangled down from their pots above. "I did not care for life" He started gently. "I had nothing to live for – I lived for the sake of living, though I could not be strong enough to take my own life" His expression was soft. "It was the last time I saw you, Guinevere was imprisoned, and she gave me hope enough to keep fighting. Even now, I still live for her, if it had not been for her, I would have been slain long ago. I still remember her words, and I will not forget them as long as I live." He looked at Merlin, who was still processing the information.

He couldn't believe that someone as talented, strong, self-assured and honourable as Lancelot could possibly fall to such a point in his life that he cared not if he lived or died. It was a blow to his system, like a kick in the teeth, and he sat there looking nearly like a kicked puppy. "Love can soothe much" He said into the breeze. It still rained through the sun, Freya was still there with him, comforting him. Lancelot laid a hand on Merlin's shoulder, and left it there until Merlin edged himself into the man's side. The knight rest his arm across Merlin's bony shoulders, his hand resting on his collar with a thumb pressing soft circles into the curve of his neck.

Merlin loved deeply, and he loved many. He loved his mother, and he loved Gaius as a father, he loved Gwen's sweet charm and Lancelot's honour and nobility, he had loved Arthur from the first time he saw him, and he loved those that had passed, especially those whose names he did not know. He had never really thought that the people he loved may love him just as much in return. Lancelot was right, wasn't he? Love brought everyone together, and though it could pull everyone apart, it was strength.

He saw what he had done to them – all of them.

The dead did not often get a chance to see what their passing had done to their friends and family, not like this. Though they had moved on, they still carried grief and sadness and raw wounds that years could not soothe.

Lancelot had insisted on going with Merlin to find Arthur again, but Merlin had promised to find him. He knew what Lancelot was thinking – that Merlin was going to run again. But Lancelot kissed his forehead, a sign of loyalty and kindness, and trusted him enough to leave Merlin alone.

He stayed outside, alone in the grass. The sun was low now, and the rain was slowly fading away. Freya was in the rain, and he could nearly feel her warm arms around him. He stayed there until the rain disappeared, and turned to look at the gates and the woods, not too far away. For a fleeting second, he thought about running away again. He was humbled, even if it still ached. So he bit his tongue and stood on weary legs, turning to look at the steps and the door he had left from. Arthur emerged from them, looking worried, and rushed to meet him.

Arthur's face was written with worry and concern and a little bit of fear so intense it nearly crushed Merlin's flimsy composure then and there. Merlin couldn't do that to him again, he had not been gone long, but he had still worried Arthur so much. Arthur hadn't known where he was, he didn't know if Merlin was safe or not, he had probably seen Lancelot, alone, and panicked. It was too much to handle, so he gathered up the last remaining strength he had and met Arthur half way in the wet grass. Arthur said nothing, only held Merlin again and he allowed it. He had destroyed everyone he cared about, how could he possibly live with that? But even more so, how could he live with the idea that if he left again, he would break them all over again?

He ate dinner with everyone he knew, actually ate because his mother sat beside him and smoothed his hair. Even though he felt sick at the first bite, he ate enough because Arthur on his other side had pressed his leg flush against Merlin's, knee to ankle. This was for everyone else, not for him because he would rather to keep his mouth closed to any kind of food. He and his mother went for a walk, they did not speak but he could feel the weight of the unspoken words on his shoulders. She walked with him to Arthur's door, which had been left part way open for their arrival. Arthur was sitting in one of the chairs, his chin in his palm, watching the two of them. Hunith swept over to him, and he rose to meet her as she hugged him as though he were her own son. "Thank you" Her voice was thick, and she gathered Merlin's bony form into her arms before she left, relieved and grateful.

She closed the door behind him, and Arthur wordlessly led Merlin to the bed. And still, quietly, he undressed him. He knelt to take off the boots Merlin wore, shedding him of the layers of clothes that had once been his. He changed Merlin into something to sleep in, and Merlin watched his king dress him, their long forgotten roles reversed. He sat on the bed when he was finished, his fingers closed around Merlin's forearms, and Merlin joined him there. Merlin edged his arms out of Arthur's grasp, and let his hand find Arthur's, and they squeezed tightly. It had been a long day, Merlin was weary, there had been a lot to process, and he honestly wasn't sure if he could stay alive for them. The room had changed in some ways, but remained the same in others. The mattress that Arthur had placed in the room for Merlin to use had been pushed against the wall on its side, but had not been removed in three years. He could see his own blanket folded neatly on Arthur's bed, and couldn't bear to look at Arthur as his warm arms slid around him.

Arthur kissed his forehead, a tender action that seemed to have happened a thousand times today. He gathered the boy in his arms and lay on the bed, squirming until he was able to pull the sheets around them. He felt mostly numb, but Arthur's soft touches stirred something in him, something long forgotten. Something warm and nice, like the heat of a fire on a cold winter night, that's what it felt like. He wasn't sure if it was even okay for him to grasp that feeling.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's hands, kissing the slightly tender skin with a gentleness that came from knowing what wounds felt like when they were still healing. Merlin pressed his palms to Arthur's skin, trying to memorize what was different and what was the same. Their eyes locked together, and Merlin didn't look away as the candles in the room went out his eyes shimmering gold.

His journey would be difficult, but he had to try – for Arthur's sake. For the sake of his mother and Gaius and Gwen and Lancelot and everyone else he had ever met or seen. For the people who had lost their lives in fires, and for the people who had taken their own. For Arthur, because he was trying to remember what that love had felt like.

This was his second chance, the second chance no one else had been given before him.


End file.
